


Family Ties

by JunjouSlashGirl



Series: Binding Ties [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Daddy Kink, Father/Son Incest, M/M, Possible Mpreg, Voldemort is Harry's real father
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2020-10-20 17:37:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20679302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JunjouSlashGirl/pseuds/JunjouSlashGirl
Summary: Harry's memories have been stolen, but Voldemort has regained his own and is determined to get him back. However, how will the Dark Lord react to delusional Gryffindor in his home? Will Harry remember what Voldemort has all done for him? Can his true nature even be suppressed for any length of time?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, the main Part of the story. Believe it or not, I have been waiting for this for years! I hope you will enjoy it!  
JSG

Chapter 1:

Harry grabbed the banister as the spiraling of the staircase increased his dizziness. He had felt off ever since his return for his fourth year. A gnawing hunger had started on the day of his arrival and no matter what he ate or drank, it wouldn’t be quenched.

By now it was making him feel constantly weak and dizzy, thus, why he needed to hold onto the banister instead of sprinting the spiral staircase to the Headmaster’s office up as usual.

The fact that his body still ached from the beatings his uncle had dealt him as a farewell present before he once again had left for Hogwarts didn’t help either. But needs must and he needed the blood wards to be safe during the holidays and he could understand that, even though he didn’t like it very much. 

Having finally reached the upper landing, he lifted his tired arm to knock, however, before he could do so Dumbledore’s cheerfull voice already sounded from the inside.

“Come in, my boy..”

Smiling, Harry pressed the door handle down. To hear the headmaster’s voice always cheered him up and gave him strength. Sometimes, the prospect of having to fight someone as strong and horrible as the Dark Lord intimidated and frightened him, but with Dumbledore at his side, it always sounded not quite so impossible anymore. 

Additionally, the old headmaster had defeated a strong dark wizard himself when he had still been rather young, so whenever he talked to Dumbledore, he felt as if there was at least one person who truly understood him. 

As soon as he entered the circular office, it was as if a huge burden lifted from his shoulders. It looked cozy as ever with his many golden nick-nacks and plushy furniture. 

Dumbledore sat as usual behind his huge oak desk and smiled at him welcomingly. 

“How have your first days back at school been?” the headmaster questioned, pulling out his wand and conjuring an armchair for him. 

“They have been good,” he answered truthfully and took one of the offered lemon drops.  
“No problems anywhere?” Dumbledore smiled at him and he shook his head.  
Shortly a slight frown flickered over the old wizard’s features, but he dismissed it quickly.  
“No, Professor.”

“Well, that is good to hear,” Dumbledore smiled, before changing the topic. “Harry, as you know, in a few weeks a delegation of students and teachers will be traveling to Durmstrang.”

Nodding, Harry waited for the headmaster to continue. He could still remember the preparations and the founder’s tournament all too well. Especially its horrible end at the graveyard, where Voldemort had resurrected with the help of his blood and he had dueled the dark wizard.

“Cedric Diggory was our best and most favored candidate. But after what happened to him that is not possible any longer.”

Harry’s heart clenched at the painful memory. If he had just put more effort into his schooling and training. Maybe then he would have been able to save his fellow student.

“Who will Hogwarts send now?” He asked aloud, needing to get his mind away from those horrible memories. 

“That is, why I have called you today,” Dumbledore smiled and Harry’s heart sank. 

Firstly, despite all the excitement he has had each single school year so far, he didn’t like it and a tournament like the Triwizard Tournament would only make the public’s attention focus even more on him. Then there were his injuries, which made every movement hurt and his reflexes slower. And not to forget his strange unsated hunger. The dizziness he had been experiencing would most likely cause him the most trouble and he had no idea when those episodes were going to go away again.

“We Professors discussed it,” Dumbledore continued, clearly not having noticed his inner turmoil “and we agreed that you would be the best candidate to take Cedric’s place. What do you say, my boy?”

Fidgetting in his armchair, Harry looked down onto his lap for a moment. He hated to disappoint his mentor. Dumbledore had taught him so much and he had so little to offer to pay the wizard back for his kindness, but he knew he had to refuse. Taking part in the tournament would equal suicide.

Therefore he took a deep intake of air before he looked back up, straight into those sparkling blue eyes and said: “Thank you Professor, but no.”

Dumbledore blinked a couple of times in surprise, before repeating: “No? You have no interest in representing our school in Durmstrang?”

“No sir,” Harry affirmed.  
“For what reason?” Dumbledore requested, but before he could answer, the headmaster already continued. “I think you should not make this decision in haste. Take your time and sleep over it for a couple of nights. Maybe speak to some fellow students. I am sure they are already eager to support you and you would not wish to disappoint them after all.”

He nodded slowly, still not feeling any better about the whole matter, but he would take his mentor’s advice to heart. Dumbledore was a wise man after all.

“Good, good. Then off you go. Lunch break is in half an hour and I believe you have Potions afterward? I meanwhile have another matter to take care off.”

“Yes, Professor. I will think about your offer,” Harry said and stood back up, noticing that the headmaster’s featured had darkened again. Shortly he wondered what kind of appointment could make Dumbeldore’s mood drop like that but then dismissed the question as well. 

He left the office and began to make his treck back to the Gryffindor common room. They have had a free period just now, but he knew his friends had planned to go there and get a head start on their homework. Or at least, Hermione had wanted that and left no room for complaining on Ron’s side. His redheaded friend was not the most studious. 

Not that Harry truly was, but thinks just came to him extraordinarily easily and he was usually finished with his written and practical homework after only a quarter of the time which Hermione took. Which in turn, made his studious friend often rather annoyed. 

he had tried to explain to her that he wasn’t doing it on purpose, however, it hadn’t helped. But despite those little arguments, Hermione, together with Ron, was the best friend he could ever wish for.

He gave the Fat Lady the current password, “Lemon Drop”, before climbing through the portrait hole and looking around for ahead of messy brown and ginger hair. 

He found his two friends sitting near the cold fireplace, reading through the chapter for their DADA homework. He had finished the essay about basic shields already, without reading a single word first. After four years of private tutelage by one of the most powerful wizards in their world, he did not need to. 

“Harry, you are back already?” Hermione asked as she saw him approach the plushy, red sofa.  
“Hmm,” he hummed and squeezed next to Ron, who wanted to know: “What did Dumbledore want?”  
“Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione corrected automatically, but she as well gave him a curious look. 

“Apparently the Professors and students want me to replace Cedric in the delegation to Durmstrang,” he told his friends with a little frown, who both gasped in reaction.

“Bloody hell, Harry, that is awesome!” Ron exclaimed.  
Harry just shrugged. “I don’t really want to go. I don’t like so much attention.”  
His redheaded friend gave him a look as if he had lost his mind. “But fame and the prize money! 1000 galleons! How can you not want to take part?”

He just shrugged again, knowing that Ron would never understand his reasons.

“You know,” Hermione suddenly began after a short moment of silence, “I usually would not advise you to take part. We are only in our first year and still have a lot to learn and get used to. But you are clearly not challenged enough, so becoming a champion and solving more difficult tasks would maybe broaden your horizon more than our classes will.”

She had a point there, but he was just feeling so off lately. Sighing, he shook his head and said: “I have yet a couple of days to decide.”

“I don’t know what there is to decide,” Ron shook his head as well.  
“Just give him some time. I am sure Harry will decide correctly in the end,” Hermione said wisely while checking her wristwatch. 

“It is almost time for lunch. We should head down to the Great Hall.”

Ron immediately jumped up to his feet, a wide grin on his face.  
Harry could kind of understand it, after the years of starvation at the Dursleys, although, the amounts his friend managed to stomach he could not. He only hoped that this time the meal would actually make him feel sated.

They left the common room together, avoiding the older and taller students who hurried past them.

Harry smiled slightly as his eyes wandered over the chatting and sometimes waving portraits. He really liked the quirky castle. However, he was startled from his musing, when he bumped into Ron, who had suddenly stopped in the middle of walking.

“What is the slimy git doing here!” His friend exclaimed.  
Looking up, Harry could see that Ron’s eyes were fixed on a blond boy a few years older than himself. 

But while his friend was still glaring daggers at the blond boy, he was merely sneering shortly back before turning around and continuing on his way into the great hall.  
For some reason, it made Harry want to smirk back. He quickly quashed the feeling, however.

“Who is that boy?” Hermione asked, looking after him curiously.  
“Draco bloody Malfoy,” Ron pressed out between gritted teeth. “They are arrogant, stuck-up pureblood fanatics that call my family blood traitors!”  
Hermione’s curious expression morphed into a frown. “What are blood traitors?”  
“People who are not prejudiced against muggle-born,” Ron explained. 

Frowning, Harry wondered shortly if he had heard that term once before, but his friends had started to walk again and he quickly hurried to catch up. 

The great hall was already packed to the brim with students as they arrived, most of them staring at the still empty tables in front of them. 

“I wonder why the foot isn’t there yet,” Ron complained as they slid into free space on the long bench “it should already be.”

Just then at that moment, Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet and immediately every student fell silent.

“Before we will begin with the delicious meal our house-elves have prepared for us, I am happy to announce that we have a new student to welcome to Hogwarts.”

The blond boy, Draco, stepped out of an unsuspicious side door Harry had never noticed before, followed by Professor McGonagall, their Head of House. She was carrying the sorting hat and three-legged chair Ron and Hermione had talked about. However, Harry had never been sorted. Dumbledore had explained to him that with students were the whole family had visited a certain house it was not necessary. So he had become a Gryffindor without sorting, which he regretted sometimes because he wondered how the famous hat was. Was it really able to speak in one’s head? His friends had at least said so. 

The chair was placed down and Draco Malfoy sat, his face smooth and blank. Having never witnessed a sorting, Harry watched with bated breath as the head was lowered onto the neatly styled hair, however, he couldn’t really say if that with the talking in one’s mind was true, as the hat had barely touched the teen’s head as it exclaimed:

“SLYTHERIN!”

Draco Malfoy smirked proudly before he gave the hat back to Professor McGonagall and swaggered over to his new house table where he was welcomed with a lot of cheers. 

“Of course he would end up there,” Ron huffed. “Everyone in his family is a Death Eater.”  
“So, his parents are imprisoned?” Hermione asked.  
Ron just shook his head. “They could never prof anything. Dad tried a couple of times, but they are just too sneaky.”

“How do you know that they are Death Eaters then?” Hermione questioned.  
“Dumbledore thinks so too,” Ron said as if that was a reasonable argument and they finally turned to their plates as the foot appeared. 

Not that Harry didn’t believe the headmaster, the man was wise after all. 

________________________________________________________________________

Voldemort sat patiently in his throne room and waited as his three followers bowed in greeting. His long, dexterous fingers caressed the small leather book that lay in his lap, looking nothing but unobtrusive. 

However, the diary was anything but. A month ago, when Harry Potter had offered his old book as a show for his willingness to fight for the right side, the right cause, he admittedly had not completely understood what the diary contained. He had xxx it rather as a gesture of politeness, to give him an item back that contained all the thoughts of his foolish, younger self. And he had accepted it, well knowing that an xxx years old orphan boy could not give him the same kind of presents as a pureblood heir could offer him when they asked to be taken into his ranks. And also well known, that the true gift was the boy’s alliance in itself. The hopelessness of the traitorous light side it would entail. 

Harry Potter had been sincere in his wish to join him, he had been able to sense as much and the diary had turned out to be so much more than a book with secret-covered pages. 

Unknowingly, he must have created an artifact while writing in it. A powerful object, consistent with his magical essence and his most private memories and thoughts, however, weakened the thing had been at that point. 

And the knowledge it had given him back. memories he had not even known he had once possessed and heartache almost too strong to bear, especially for someone like him. 

His diary had not been sure, but it had suspected from its first meeting with Harry Potter that the boy was more than a mere boy. That he was no Potter. That he was his, his alone, His Rhian.

The old desperation was back, the yearning, the pain and the only reason he had managed to stay calm and not immediately go after what was his was the fact that Rhian would be brought to him in only a couple of days.

Unlike his usual self, he had spent the house he had not been busy with gathering his old followers and giving them new instructions with pacing up and down in Rhian’s old bedroom.

The diary had never told the boy what truly connected them, even though it had sensed that in its presence the weakened magical bond between them was slowly strengthening. His diary had pushed as much magic into the bond’s strengthening as it had been able to afford, hence his weakened state. 

For nights Voldemort had wondered what kinds of things Rhian remembered at this point, but when the day had arrived where Lucius had been supposed to meet his boy at Gringott’s, Rhian had never shown up. 

Voldemort had known then that Dumbledore had once more interfered. 

“Severus, have you been able to find information on Potter’s whereabouts?”  
He addressed his follower, who inclined his head respectfully.

“I have, my Lord,” Severus said and Voldemort didn’t miss how the Potions Master straightened in discomfort. Automatically his blood-red eyes narrowed.  
“Harry Potter is currently at Hogwarts,” his spy continued and Voldemort could feel him shrink under his angry glare.

“Continue.”  
Severus swallowed but did as told.

“He arrived like any other first year on the 1st of September with the train. However, there is something not feeling right about his attendance.”

“And that would be?” Voldemort questioned getting slowly annoyed with his servant's evasive demeanor.

“He arrived together with two new Gryffindor’s; Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. I am quite certain, that he would not have chosen those as friends a month ago. It generally seems that he has changed. There is nothing left of the pureblood upbringing he portraits at the graveyard and he also did not receive a usual sorting. Instead, Dumbledore announced him to be a Gryffindor, telling the student body that the boy had put on the sorting hat already four years ago when he started his private lessons.”

Silence fell over the throne room after his spy had finished his report, no one daring to interrupt Lord Voldemort. he was clutching his old diary now, leaving claw-like marks in the worn leather. 

It was not hard to deduce what had happened the day Rhian was supposed to return to his side. The old fool clearly had gotten a grip on the boy. Most likely Rhian’s current behavior was the result of mind-altering spells. He would have to find out if the memories of their time together were still present in the boy’s mind, however, he doubted it at this point. 

Turning his attention to the person standing next to his spy, he addressed him:  
“Lucius, your son is starting as planned at Hogwarts today?”

“Correct, my Lord.”

“Inform him that he is to keep a close eye on Potter and to note down anything significant and insignificant. It is safe to assume that his memories have been tampered with.”

The expressions of his followers darkened. He only hoped that Rhian’s nature would protect the boy’s mind to a certain extent.

“The preparations for today went smoothly?”

Once again his spy inclined his head. “Yes, my Lord. Webber will be dealt with.”  
“Good, then be prepared by this evening,” he addressed his third follower, who just bowed deeply in reply. 

“Dismissed.”

________________________________________________________________________

“Oh, we will be too late!” Hermione groaned as they hurried down the dark corridor to their potions classroom. “And its all your fault, Ron! Really, you didn’t need that third helping of pudding!”  
“But it was chocolate pudding!” Ron defended himself.

“Don’t worry, Mione, we will still be there in time,” Harry tried to smooth over his bushy-haired friend’s temper. 

“But what if not? We are not even two months here. I do not want detention so soon. I do not want any detention at all!” She shrieked and picked up her pace. 

Exchanging a look with Ron, they hurried after her. 

However, just as predicted, his fellow students were still waiting in front of the closed classroom door. The Slytherins were standing in a group together, whispering and snickering, probably telling each other insulting lies about the waiting Gryffindors.

“See, Harry was right,” Ron pointed out as they came to a halt next to Dean and Seamus.  
“But it’s strange,” Hermione mused. “Professor Snape should be here already. He is usually very punctual.”

“It can’t be more than a minute. give the poor man a break, even nasty gits need one sometimes,” Ron huffed and leaned back against the cold stone wall. 

Just at that moment footsteps could be heard in the distance. However, it was not Professor Snape that appeared around the corner a moment later.

“Professor Webber, what are you doing here?” Hermione gasped, sounding almost panicked.

“I will explain once you are all seated, the wizard with the soft, smiling face answered and opened the classroom door for them. 

As they piled in, the Slytherins threw the wizards suspicious looks, however, no one dared to say a word.

Harry slid into his usual seat at the back of the class, next to Ron, who sat between him and Hermione. originally that had been his spot, but Hermione had made him nervous with her nervous way of brewing. 

He pulled his quill and ink out and Professor Webber finally called them to silence.  
Webber was their DADA Professor for this year. He usually was a teacher at the Auror academy and very nice and patient.

“Today I will substitute for professor Snape.”

Pansy Parkinson’s hand lifted a few rows in front of them and their professor pointed at her.  
“Why is our Head of House not here? Has something happened to him?” The girl asked in her unpleasant voice. 

“He had to leave on an urgent family business. However, your Professor shall be back by tomorrow,” Webber soothed the girl, before turning to the blackboard.

“This means, that today’s class will be taught by me. As a fully trained Auror, I have taken my Potions NEWTS and take part in a specialized potions course during my training. We should all be fine for one lesson,” he gave them a reassuring smile and flicked his want, at which instructions appeared on the blackboard. 

“Today you will learn to brew a burn salve. It is a very basic potion, however, there is a tricky step in the middle of the procedure, therefore you will first observe as I brew the cream, before doing it yourselves.”

Hermione’s hand immediately shot into the air, and as Harry glanced over he saw her fidgeting nervously on her chair.

“Yes, Ms. Granger?” 

“But will we not have enough time if we watch you first?” She asked nervously, making Ron roll his eyes.

“There will be enough time, Ms. Granger. The salve is brewed quickly enough as you will see.” 

The professor then beckoned them all to the front where they gathered around a big cauldron. 

“Just for precaution I will erect a shield around my workplace,” Webber announced and a blue dome shimmered shortly around him, before disappearing again. 

“Now, first we must fill the kettle with 375 ml of distilled water,” the professor began the lecture, but Harry could feel his attention slipping away already. 

he was quite sure that he had brewed this sale at least once before, even though he couldn’t quite remember when it had been. Probably in one of Professor Dumbledore’s lectures, though.

One had to be careful when adding the squashed ice slug, as it could cost a massive explosion with the dragon’s blood that had to be previously added. When the temperature of the concoction was too high, an effect not unlike pouring water on burning oil would occur. 

It didn’t help in the slightest that he felt as if he hadn’t eaten a thing for breakfast and then standing upright was tiering him quickly. 

However, he forced himself to at least stare at the cauldron, so that no one would notice his distraction. 

“Next you stir everything thrice counterclockwise and once clockwise,” Webber was explaining right now. 

“You can use every type of dragon blood for this salve. There isn’t any special requirement.”

Webber took a small vial from the table next to the cauldron and carefully dripped five drops of blood inside. 

“Now to the difficult part. You will have to lower the temperature to exactly 75 degrees, or the mashed ice slug will react dangerously with the dragon’s blood we just put in. You can use a spell to check the temperature or use a thermometer.”

Harry blinked his eyes as the glowing numbers that now hovered above the cauldron blurred irritatingly, however, in the next moment his attention came back full force as he saw a thin swirl of smoke rise from the cauldron. Automatically he lifted his arms, that was all he could do before a massive bang sounded and the floor beneath their feet shook. 

He fell to the hard floor, the shock had thrown him from his feet. His classmates shrieked around him, however, the smoke that now emitted from the broken barrier made it impossible to see anything. Not that it was necessary, he knew what must have happened, even though he couldn’t understand why. He was quite certain that the spell had shown the required 75 degrees before their professor had added the slug. 

“Harry, Ron, are you alright?” he heard Hermione somewhere to his left.  
Ron answered something, but Harry instead pulled his wand out and cast a strong vanishing spell that took care of the black fumes.

Gasps sounded all around him as his classmates saw their professor, or rather, what was left of him, which wasn’t much and nothing that could be easily recognized. 

“Oh my god!” Hermione gasped, scrambling up to her feet from where she lies closest to the burned remains.  
“What…” she began, sounding close to hyperventilating, but at that moment the door to their classroom burst open and a small group of Professors came rushing in. They must all have felt the explosion. 

he could see Professor McGonagall and Flitwick and even Madame Pomfrey with a medical bag flowing next to her. 

“All the students leave the classroom!” McGonagall’s magically enhanced voice sounded above the rising chaos.

Not hesitating a moment longer, Harry helped Ron up and dragged him to the door. They needed checking over, the smoke had probably been toxic, or at least unhealthy. 

“Is there anybody feeling as if they are close to passing out?” He heard Madame Pomfrey’s commanding voice as soon as they stepped out. “No? The line up in a neat row that I can check each one of you!” She said when no answer was forthcoming.

They waited patiently in line, Harry wondering if it was normal for the witch to take care of her patients in a corridor. But then again, she could not have known in what state they all would be in and as far as he knew, the Hospital wing didn’t hold enough beds for an entire class anyway, so it probably was just easier this way. 

His ears perked as his head of house and Professor Flittwig walked passed him and into the destroyed classroom. Most likely to take a look at the unfortunate Professor. Well, there wasn’t much they could do for him anymore. 

Seeing that it was finally his turn, he focussed on the medi witch in front of him. She gave him a warm, encouraging smile, before telling him: “This should not take long, Mr. Potter.”

He shivered as her magic washed over him. The sheet of a superficial diagnostic spell appeared in the air between them. Madame Pomfrey plucked it from the air and quickly read over it.

“Just as I thought,” she hummed, pointed her want at him again and muttered a second spell.  
This time her magic felt even more uncomfortable as it reached deep inside of him and pull a cloud of dark smoke from his lungs.  
“That’s it. You should feel no itching in your lungs anymore.”

It was true, however, he was much gladder that her magic was gone from his body. 

Seeing his friends waiting for him at the end of the corridor, he made his way over and for a moment they walked silently up to the entrance hall. It was Hermione who finally broke the strained atmosphere.

“I can’t believe that the cauldron blew up! I am sure he did everything correctly!”

“Everybody can make a mistake,” Ron just shrugged.  
“But he is a teacher! He was an Auror!” she protested.

Harry stayed silent, but inwardly he thought that that was possibly the stupidest argument he had ever heard.

“And it was a rather easy potion,” Hermione added, making Ron snort.  
“For an Auror it is,” she huffed.

“Maybe that was the reason? Overconfidence?” Ron stated, turning towards the staircase. 

“I can’t imagine that!” their friend refused the suggestion. 

“I wonder what will happen with our classes,” Harry decided to say, knowing full well that Hermione would go on forever if he didn’t change the subject.

His friend’s eyes immediately widened and she gasped. “You are right! How could I forget that? Do you think Professor Dumbledore will find a new teacher soon? Oh god! We will fail our end-of-year exam!”

Wincing, Harry exchanged a look with Ron. Maybe his change of topic had not been so wise after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo :-)  
I tried to hurry and now you get the second chapter in one week! I will probably not be able to keep it up like this, because in October university starts up again. But I will try my best. And just as info, I plan to have about 4 short chapters until Voldy appears again. 
> 
> Have fun,   
JSG

Chapter 2

A bit over a week had passed since the horrible Potions accident. His friends were still at dinner, but unable to stomach anything at this point, Harry was making his way up to the Library.

Not that he needed to be there either, he had finished all his homework a long time ago, however, he had promised to wait for Ron and Hermione there. Turning into the huge, open room, he decided to use the time until his friends’ arrival to search for a book worth reading. 

He went past the books on school-related topics. It was still bloody amazing how thoroughly Dumbledore had taught him in just three years. He aimlessly browsed the books in front of him, not really knowing what he was looking for when an old tomb with a snake that bit his tail on it caught his attention. 

Stopping instinctively, he pulled the book out and read the title. The Edda- Tales of Ancient Magic. 

Somehow captured by it, he clamped it under his arm and walked over to one of the many tables that stood in the front part of the library. Sitting down, he scanned the table of content. It was odd, some story titles felt familiar, even though he was sure he had never heard or read one of them. 

Frowning, he just skipped to the first tale, wondering if he would figure out this mystery along the way. 

The sagas captured him, however, something seemed to be missing, he just couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

A movement in the corner of his eyes caught his attention, and expecting Ron and Hermione to finally join him, he looked up. However, it was only the new Student, Draco Malfoy. 

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the blond Slytherin. He couldn’t really share Ron’s immediate dislike, however, the boy watched him often and that unnerved him. 

To his utter surprise, the older teen immediately turned towards him and only a moment late, pulled one of the chairs opposite of him out to sit down with more poise than Ron or he would ever manage to pull off.

“Good evening Potter,” Draco Malfoy addressed him. “Without your friends for once?”  
Feeling uneasiness rise inside of him, Harry shot him an annoyed glare.   
“They are still at dinner, but they will come here soon,” he informed the Slytherin.

“What a pity, I always wanted to exchange a few words with the famous Harry Potter,” Draco drawled and leaned forward in his chair to watch him more closely. It made Harry feel decidedly uncomfortable. Still, he decided to just wait and see what the other boy truly wanted.

Ron had informed him that Slytherin’s never did something without a good reason, so had Dumbledore and after watching some of them in his weekly Potions class, he had to agree. 

It disgusted him, this rational way of thinking. It didn’t leave much room for things like friendship and trust. 

Having apparently decided to finally speak, Draco straightened again.  
“After all the stories I have heard about you, I am astonished that you would pick someone like the Weasel and the beaver for friends”

Maybe, Harry concluded, Ron had been right with his warning after all.  
“And what stories have you heard about me?” he huffed, annoyed.  
“The usual. That you are talented, powerful, a hero and,” Draco Malfoy made a dramatic pause that made Harry feel as if the blond boy wanted to draw his attention to his next words “a true wizard.”

“Of course I am a true wizard. Why else should I be here at Hogwarts?”  
“Oh, there can be many reasons. And it isn’t quite what I mean,” Malfoy gave him a pointed look as if Harry should get what he was hinting at, but he had no bloody idea.   
“I could help you to connect again with the right kind. With other true wizards and witches,” the boy added, even more meaningful, but Harry has had enough. 

What an arrogant, pretentious prat!  
“Thanks, but no thanks! I think I can decide on my own who are the right kind of wizards and who not!” Giving the Slytherin a disgusted look he stood up, closed his book and walked towards the entrance of the library, not turning back once to check if Malfoy was following him.

In the doorway, he nearly collided with Ron and Hermione.  
“Bloody hell, mate, who is after you this time?” Ron joked and steadied him.   
“Nobody. Only a stupid, blond prat,” he huffed and continued down the corridor.   
“I told you Malfoy is an arse!” Ron called out smugly.

“Let’s do our homework in the common room,” Harry called back as he stepped onto the staircase.   
“but the common room is so noisy!” protested Hermione. however, she as well hurried to catch up with him. 

As he finally reached the landing of the 7th floor his anger had evaporated as his heart hammered tiredly in his ears. For a short moment he feared he would finally blackout after burning so much of his already little energy, but somehow, with the help of the banister, he managed to stay upright. 

He blinked a few times until all black spots in his visions had vanished before giving the Fat Lady the password and stepping into the common room where he walked ahead to their usual table. 

“I guess you have already finished your homework?” Hermione questioned as she sat down across from him.  
“Yup,” he nodded, opening the book he had taken along.  
“I still think you should at least check the books,” Hermione told him disapprovingly. “You can’t know that you know all the details our Professors want us to gather in our essays.”

“Mione, give the poor boy a break! He had never anything else but an O so far!” Ron sighed, clearly getting annoyed.  
“Yes, so far it worked, but classes will grow more demanding and teachers will not let it slide if we miss too much any longer.”

“If that happens, I will start reading the books, what about that?” Harry sighed, knowing that Hermione wouldn’t stop nagging otherwise. “But honestly, I think Professor Dumbledore did a thorough job,” he added with a grin. 

Hermione glared at him and huffed. “Be careful that you don’t grow lazy. It is the beginning of the end,” she said wisely.

“I am not lazy!” He defended himself, thinking after the life he has had at the Dursleys so far, he deserved to be a bit lazy. “See, I am even reading a book right now,” he said and held the book with the nondescript cover-up.  
“Novels don’t count,” she admonished him, but Harry decided to not correct her and instead just opened his book where he had interrupted earlier.

________________________________________________________________________

Voldemort rose from where he sat in his private study as he felt the wards of Serpents’ Court flare. Smoothing his robe out with a careless wave of his hand, he made his way through the discreet door that connected his study with his throne room, he sat down in his silver throne and waited for right-hand-man to enter.

A moment later the huge double doors opened silently and Lucius, followed by his son entered. They both knelt shortly in front of him, before standing straight.  
“My Lord,” they greeted simultaneously.

“Lucius, Draco,” he said in greeting. “Were you able to find new information on Potter?”

His right-hand man inclined his head in affirmation. “Draco was able to speak with Potter yesterday. He believes that your assumptions are indeed correct.”

Turning his red eyes towards the younger blond, he prompted: “Draco?”

“I managed to find Potter alone in the library yesterday,” the young aristocrat began with a respectful bow. “We met before in Hogwarts, only twice, but we spoke shortly in the past and I am sure that there was a silent understanding between us. However, when I joined him yesterday, he did not seem to recognize me at all.”

Cold fury rose inside of Voldemort. This time the old fool had truly overdone it. This time he would make sure that he did not live to see another year pass. 

“I tried to subtly drop a few hints, but he did not understand them either,” Lucius’ son continued.   
“However,” without permission, Voldemort felt himself perk up at that single word. His desperation to get Rhian back was growing with each passing day. Of course, he had not felt anything of it while he had been a wraith, in fact, he had not even remembered his little boy during that time and neither after he had regained a physical form, but his diary had successfully unlocked all memories his mind had shut off. 

Albus Dumbledore might tell everyone who asked otherwise, but he possessed feelings aside anger and blood lust. Not that the old fool would ever experience anything else from him. He focused back on Draco, who had paused dramatically, just like his father had done in the past until he had driven out that particular habit. It seemed he would have to teach the son as well.

“He was reading a book I have never seen someone from the light side read before. The Edda.”

That caught Voldemort’s attention. standing up, he began to pace in front of his throne. He realized what significance the wizarding version of the Edda held for Rhian. It seemed as if somewhere deep down the boy still possessed his memories. And if that was the case, then they could be pulled to the surface again. he could pull them to the surface again. 

But how?

“You are dismissed,” he waved his two servants absentmindedly off as he made his way up to his library. He had an idea of how to accomplish what he needed to do. However, he would have to read up on it first. 

He had never concerned himself much with psychology, with it being a muggle science that had only in recent years been studied by some wizards and witches. However, he suspected it was exactly what he needed right now. And as much as he hated to admit it, muggles were far more knowledgable in the art.

________________________________________________________________________

Harry awoke with a shout and looked wildly around. Something had awoken him; a shriek, if he remembered correctly. 

The sound echoed through the dorm room a second time, sending cold shivers down his spine. Was that some kind of animal?

A sound like claws scratching over a blackboard joined the screeching and he finally saw the huge shadow in front of the window closest to his bed. It was a bird. But certainly no owl. It was much too gigantic for a mere post owl, even though it seemed to carry something in its talons.

“By Merlins stinking…” Ron muttered in his sleep and he quickly decided to let the bird in before it could wake his roommates.   
As soon as he opened the window, the huge bird swapped in.

Fortunately, it didn’t screech again and let only a rather huge parcel fall onto his bed, before sitting down on the frame that held his bed-hangings. 

Blinking in confusion and wondering for whom the package was, he picked it up and stared in surprise when he found his name written in sharp but elegant handwriting written upon the plain wrapping. 

No one had ever sent him as much as a letter, let alone a real gift. 

The parcel was unusually light for something that big. His hands were trembling as he carefully pulled the silver ribbon that held the package closed off. The paper fell away and he stared at the thing hidden inside for a moment before he realized what it was. 

It was a cuddly toy, a snake to be precise. A snake with wings. Why would someone send him a plush animal? It looked very worn too, like a much-beloved toy of some young child.  
He wondered if the child it belonged to missed their toy.

Absentmindedly, he lifted a hand and patted the plushy head of the snake. Somehow it seemed almost familiar and he wanted to press it against his chest and wrap himself around it.

But that clearly couldn’t be. He never had possessed anything so nice. Not even now where his life had grown so much better thanks to Dumbledore.

Suddenly it hit him and he realized why the plush reptile seemed so familiar. It was a sky-serpent, like Jörmungandr he had read about the night before. It had to be that. What a strange coincident though. 

Yawning, he placed the snake carefully down onto his pillow and cast a quick tempus to check how late it was. He hoped that he would still have time to sleep a bit. He felt so exhausted. Somewhere deep down he knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep going like this much longer, but the of going to the hospital wing was appalling. 

Unfortunately, the spell told him that he would have to get up in twenty minutes anyway, so with a sigh, he reached for his trunk and pulled his toiletry bag out. Maybe a long, hot shower would help his spirits.

“Do you want to stay here and rest?” He addressed the bird, who puffed out his black plumage and looked over to the closed window.   
“Well, bye then,” he smiled and opened the window again.   
The huge bird took flight and vanished into the still-dark morning a moment later. 

He left the dorm silently and made his way across the small, circular hallway to the showers. It was a bit strange to be completely alone in a rather huge room. His steps echoed unnaturally loudly on the tiled walls.

He stripped and placed his PJ and school uniform on a shelf near the door, before walking to a shower in the far corner. As soon as he stepped beneath it, the water began raining down. It was slightly too hot, but better than the alternative, which would be slightly too cool. Sometimes he wondered if the charms on the showers had to be renewed, or why else the water was always a bit off. 

Still, he sighed in relief as the hot water immediately relaxed his muscles. He had not realized how much effort it caused his body to keep him upright these days. 

However, far too quickly the heat grew too much and the black spots in front of his eyes appeared again. Stepping from under the shower, he leaned against the cold tiles for a moment to regain his breath. his heart was hammering in his chest and the blood rushed in his ears. 

He felt sick to his stomach, but luckily there was nothing inside he could heave up. 

Suddenly the door banged open and Dean, Seamus, and Neville entered. 

“Harry, are you alright?” Neville asked, giving him a worried look. 

Forcing a smile upon his face, he nodded. “Yeah, just tired.”

Neville was probably the most empathic of all his dorm mates. However, he only spoke rarely to the chubby boy and didn’t really know him. 

“Oh, well… maybe a kakeo will help?” Neville smiled reassuringly and began to. 

“Bloody hell, why are you up so early?” Ron questioned as he entered with a huge yawn.  
“Someone sent me a gift,” he told them truthfully.

A chorus of oohs echoed through the shower room and Harry rolled his eyes. of course, they would think he had a girlfriend. Whatever for would he need one? Only because he had been taught magic for four years already, didn’t mean that he was older than them. He was only 11 as well.

“And… what did you get?” Seamus grinned and waggled his eyebrows meaningfully, but his face fell when Harry retorted: “A plush toy.”  
“But what would you want with a plush toy?” Dean asked incredulously.  
Harry just shrugged. “What would I want with a flower bouquet?”   
“True, but a cuddly toy?” Ron shook his head.

“Well, I will go ahead to breakfast,” he announced and finally left the humid shower room. 

However, instead of going straight to the great hall, where would only have to stare at the food he couldn’t eat anyway, he returned to his dorm, picked out the book he was still reading and settled on his bed to wait for his friends. 

He was in the middle of the story about Loki the mischief-maker when Ron finally returned to fetch his school bag. 

“You still here? Are you not hungry yet?” His friend questioned, as always not understanding how someone could not run off to a meal fist chance they got. Unfortunately, Harry couldn’t really understand it either right now. 

“Not really,” he retorted and pushed himself from the mattress. Immediately the room around him began spinning and he had to grab the bedpost.  
“You sure you are alright, mate? You seem really off this morning,” Ron frowned. 

“I think I showered too hot,” he excused his strange behavior.   
“Then better not do that again,” Ron said and held the door open for him. 

Hoping that his blood pressure would hold and not drop any further, Harry grabbed his bag and followed his friend out.

Down in the common room, Hermione already waited for them.   
“Oh Harry, you look horrible this morning. Are you feeling alright?” She greeted him with a worried frown.   
“The fool showered too warm,” Ron told her with a dismissive gesture. “He will be fine after he drank something, don’t worry, Mione.”

Frowning at the dismissiveness of his friend, Harry followed Ron out of the portrait hole. Sure, he was kind of glad that Ron behaved like that, but somehow it was sad as well.

Down in the great hall, he took a seat between his two friends as usual. Ron immediately began to pile food onto his plate, while Hermione carefully levitated a blueberry-muffin over. Probably to practice her wingardium leviosa. 

For appearance's sake, he also grabbed a muffin, even though he disliked blueberries and began to nibble on it.

“So, who do you reckoned to send you that present this morning?” Ron suddenly asked around a mouth full of scrambled eggs and bacon. 

“You got a present? From whom? What was it?” Hermione immediately asked and Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes again. Hadn’t Ron just mentioned that they didn’t know who had sent it? But he suspected that nothing and no one would ever change Hermione.

“I don’t know from whom. There was no card or anything,” Harry shrugged and took another small bite from his muffin, even though his stomach began to coil dangerously.   
“That’s strange,” the bushy-haired girl frowned. “Why wouldn’t he or she sign the present?”  
“Strange is that it was a cuddly toy,” Ron huffed and rolled his eyes, before reaching for the plate of bacon again. 

Hermione blinked at them as if she hadn’t heard correctly. “A cuddly toy?” she echoed, clearly bewildered.   
“Yeah. Strange, hu? I mean, you don’t get a boy by sending him plush animals,” Ron snickered.

“Why should it even be a girl?” Harry wondered out loud. He didn’t know why, but somehow he didn’t think that the gift came from a love-stricken girl.   
“Why should a boy send you a present?” Ron questioned back.  
“Maybe it hasn’t anything to do with someone love-stricken,” he pointed out.  
Ron opened his mouth again, but Hermione cut him off. “I think Harry is right. We have no reason to think it was a besotted girl. Anyway, he has no time for this. Today the new DADA Professor starts. We can’t effort to be too late for his class.”

Glad for a reason to leave the topic of his strange present behind, Harry rose to his feet.  
He had completely forgotten that Dumbledore had announced that a new Professor had finally arrived and would take over this morning. And just as chance would have it, they would have the first lesson with him. 

Hoping that the Professor would be just as competent as the last one so that he at least wouldn’t be even more bored than he was anyway, he followed his friends up to the DADA classroom. 

The way to the third floor where the classroom was located seemed endless. However, they finally reached their destination, just in time before the classroom door opened.  
The Professor who was standing in the doorway looked barely older than the students who left Hogwarts after graduation. He had light brown hair, bright blue eyes, and wireless spectacles. 

“Come in, come in! I see you are all punctual!” He greeted with a wide smile that reminded Harry faintly of somebody, however, he couldn’t quite say whom.

“As you surely realize,” the Professor continued while they still sat down and pulled their books, scrolls, quills, and inkwells out, “I have just finished my defense mastery. So, you will all have to help me in the beginning,” the wizard winked at the class and turned to the blackboard.

“My name is Professor Halsey and I will be your new Defense Professor from now on. From the Headmaster I know that you have already worked through the first two chapters of your textbook. However, I would like to test you on those spells first, before we continue with the usual routine. Please pair up and search for a nice spot.”

With a flick of his wand, all their tables and chairs vanished, leaving a huge, free space to practice.

As they always took turns during practice lessons like this, Harry turned to his friends. However, before they could start, the Professor’s voice interrupted them:  
“Mr. Potter, would you grand me the honor to be my partner for this little dueling exercise? I have only heard rumors so far about your private tutelage and would like to see myself what great things Professor Dumbledore has already taught you.”

“Oh… ok,” he agreed, feeling a bit odd. However, he gave Hermione a reassuring nod, who looked quite worried at the prospect that he would duell a fully trained wizard.

“Beginn,” Halsey announced, before turning to him with a bright smile.  
“I will cast a protective shield around you and a barrier around our dueling space, just to be safe. It is ok if we use more than the two spells your classmates have learned so far, right?”

Finding the Professor slightly odd but nice enough, Harry nodded. Besides, he wasn’t really worried. He knew he was a good dueller. 

A lilak dome shortly flickered around him as he waited for the professor to start their duel. However, instead of bowing formally and counting down from three, Halsey just sends a red jet of light in his direction. 

Stepping sideways, he easily avoided the stunner without even lifting his wand.

“Very good. You learned to move and not just to rely on your magic all the time,” Halsey commented with a grin and picked his pace up. 

This time two stunners flew at him. He avoided the first once more, but cast a shield for the second, before sending his spell back. 

For a while they dueled like this, the spell’s strength increasing slowly. They exchanged stinging hexes, cutting hexes, tripping jinxes, different variations of the stunner from the beginning and much more Harry’s classmate had yet to learn until graduation. 

It was when they had exhausted the spells from the seventh year, that Harry started to grow more excited for what would come next. His heart was beating more lively in his chest than in the last couple of weeks. 

As he send a spell that was part of the Auror training program towards his Professor, he realized that his classmates had stopped their own duel by now and instead were eagerly watching him. 

The duel picked up pace and with glee, he saw sweat starting to beat on Hasley’s forehead. Only the flashing in the Professor’s blue eyes warned him that something much more difficult than a leg-locking curse would come his way next. 

Harsley lifted his wand high above his head, swung it once and a toxic orange light flew straight at him. 

For a moment Harry felt like frozen as his mind blanked completely. The magic felt odd, different from anything else he had felt so far and he didn’t recognize the spell. He had no idea how to protect himself from it. A normal barrier would probably be of no use either.

And then he suddenly knew the answer, like an epiphany striking him. It was a skin-burning curse. A dark curse, even though still one of the weaker ones. Just before the curse could hit him, he raised his wand, and cast a strong shield he did not realize he should not know. 

The spell hit and his barrier shook but held strong. As the orange light vanished, Hasley lowered his wand and began to clap. 

“Very good Mr. Potter. Very good. I believe that is an O for this lesson.”

However, Harry barely heard him as the rushing in his ears grew louder again. He wavered as his vision grew dizzy for a second, before managing to force his mind to stay clear by pure will alone. 

“That was amazing!” Ron clapped his shoulder when the tables were back in place and he arrived at his seat.   
“No wonder you always manage to get away from You-Know-Who!”  
“What spell was that you used last?” Hermione interrupted the redhead with a frown. “I didn’t recognize it.”

Not really knowing where he had picked up the spell, but aware that Hermione would not be impressed by the truth, Harry shrugged a casually as he managed.   
“Just a spell Professor Dumbledore taught me to shield from stronger hexes and curses.”  
“It looked impressive. I will have to see if I find it somewhere in the library,” his friend added and began to pack her school bag. 

“You can do that,” Ron commented with a roll of his eyes, “but I will go down for lunch. I am starving!”  
“You are always starving!” Hermione huffed, before turning questioning eyes on Harry.  
“I will join you, Ron,” he answered, even though he only wanted to lie down on the next flat surface and sleep for the next year or so. However, he would try to eat something. Maybe he even leaves his usual dishes to the side and see if he would be able to stomach anything else. At this point, he would even eat cabbage if it sated him and he hated cabbage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? Good? Bad?
> 
> And the question one last time still stand (because only a few people reviewed):  
1\. Should Voldemort look like his old self already?   
2\. Should Harry age a little (keep in mind that this story will get physical. Although I don't mind, its up to you)
> 
> Also, I have decided who the new Professor is, but it will be a surprise ;-)  
Please read and review ,  
JSG


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :-)  
I know this chapter is awfully short, but it just came over me and at least you get two chapters within 24 hours :-) Hope you all like it.  
JSG

Chapter 3:

Voldemort paused and looked around in the small room that was joined to his bedroom. Small was of course only in comparison to the rest of Serpents Court. But that was of no importance right now. 

Malik, his old family house-elf had brought all of Rhian’s belongings to his old room, where he stood right now, trying to decide what to send his little boy next. 

Jörmy had been an easy pick. It was by far the one thing Rhian had loved the most.

Looking around, he realized that there weren’t as many personal items as he would have liked at this moment. There were the crayons and drawn pictures. And of course clothes and books, but he doubted that either of those two would be enough to trigger any memories. 

He stopped in his musing when suddenly a soft sound reached his ears. It sounded like a snake, but Nagini was out hunting and it was far too soon for her to arrive back. Pulling out his wand and swirling around in one swift, fluid movement he sent a strong stunner the intruder’s way, only to have ti rebounded from the small creature that slithered up to him. 

Frowning, he lowered his wand. Not many snakes were magically strong enough to reflect such a strong spell. Examining the small reptile more closely, recognition dawned on him.

“Orsana,” he hissed.  
“Old Master,” the reptile bowed her head, before slithering up his leg as if she did not see his glare. 

Right, his Diary had told Rhian to get her out of the Chamber and bond to him. Which was not a bad decision. Still, he had lost a very powerful familiar. 

“Is my little Master here? I can not find him anymore,” the basilisk hissed as she lay down on his shoulder.  
“Unfortunately he is not. He is currently at Hogwarts.”  
“In that horrible nest? Has the old man done something?” 

Voldemort could practically feel his old familiar’s glare. Lifting his hand, he stroked with one single finger over her cool, smooth head.   
“He has, but do not worry. I will bring him back soon.”  
“You better will,” Orsana muttered before laying her small head down to rest after the long journey. 

Returning to his previous dilemma, Voldemort began to mutter under his breath. Maybe a book would be good after all. Something to trigger the memories about all the true facts about magic his diary had taught his boy. But no, it was still too early for that. He needed to build trust first or the way Rhian was right now he would go and tell the old fool. 

How he hated that he was unable to enter Hogwarts. Dumbledore had sat the wards that he needed to be invited by a staff member a long time ago. unfortunately, the old, cunning fox had restricted the access of most staff members to the wards. As far as he was aware, only Dumbledore, his deputy, and the school nurse could still invite visitors. 

Feeling his annoyance and anger at the old fool that blocked the school that should rightfully belong to him rise, he pushed the thoughts forcefully to the farthest corner of his mind. He had more important things to think about right now; namely, his next gift.

“What are you muttering about, old Master?” Orsana suddenly hissed from where she rested around his neck. 

“The old wizard has stolen your Master’s memories and I am trying to find something of his that may trigger them once more,” he hissed back, even while he continued his search.   
He ignored the movement of the shrunken basilisk as she lifted herself to look around and instead walked over to the wardrobe in hopes to find something there. 

Maybe his diary had gifted him a special jacket once? He doubted it, he had thoroughly gone through all those memories and stored them securely in his mind. he would remember such an item. 

“Sent him one of those pictures,” Osana hissed suddenly and pointed with her tail to the sideboard was a stack of Rhian’s drawings were piled up.

Frowning, Voldemort walked over and picked the pile up before sitting down on the small children’s bed. They certainly showed off a certain talent of his little boy, but he was not quite sure if a drawing would help accomplish his goals. 

“Why should I send a picture?”   
He hated to admit it, but there were things he was not quite as competent in as in wheeling magic and leading a dark army. Nagini had always told him that it was a common problem of all male snakes.

“Humans draw pictures to capture memories,” Orsana replied decisively.

Skipping through the drawings, Voldemort had to admit that the basilisk was correct. Rhian had captured many things from his life. Simple things as his bed and his cuddly toy, but also the view from his magical window and scenes from stories the diary had told him. 

He stopped as he came to a picture that showed the little boy cuddled next to his diary self, who, ironically, held said book in his lap. The black and white drawing was surprisingly detailed; Rhian had even managed to capture a content expression on his own, sleeping face. 

Deciding that this would be the perfect next gift, he transfigured an elegant, black frame from another white parchment, before putting the drawing in and spelling it wrapped.   
He took it down to his study, where he found his black harpy already sitting on its perch.

As if sensing his mood, the bird flew over and grabbed the gift he was holding out. After it had vanished through one of his room-high windows, he made his way over to his desk to sort out papers. After ten years as a mere wraith, many things had to be picked up and organized again. 

Many of his most trusted followers were still imprisoned and the wizarding monarchy had been reduced to a fairytale only the dark children still heard about. It was a pity that most wizarding children did not know what magic could give them. How much power, how much it could prolong their lives. Or that the culprit, who had taken all that away from them lived happily as their Messiah in their mitts. 

His mother had warned him that the journey to save the magical world would be a hard and strenuous one and that it would bring many pains, but young and foolish as he had been back then, he had not quite grasped the true meaning of her words. 

However, those who still could remember the old days of greatness came slowly but surely back to him, sensing the shift in the world’s magic. He had not summoned them yet and still, almost every day one of magic’s true servants arrived at Serpent’s Court to pay a courtesy visit and leave an offering on what by now had to be one of the last shrines for Mother Magic. 

A dark, bemused chuckle left his throat. Mother Magic was certainly the wrong term for the being that held control over all magical energy. Little Prince Magic would be far more appropriate.

A flare in his ward signaled the arrival of another guest, but sensing who it was, he stayed seated where he was.   
He had not always treated his most trusted followers like mere minions who had to kneel in front of him and fear brutal punishments. Although reminders of who exactly held the power were sometimes necessary, it had certainly grown out of hand as his mind had slipped away in the last years of the war. 

But times were leaning in his favor again and the next generation needed to learn that he rewarded excelling services with trust.

A knock sounded at his door and he bit his visitors to enter. 

There was an uncertainty in his right-hand man's eyes that had not been there in the past, witness of the strain the old fool had managed to sow in the dark community. His son, if possible for a Malfoy, looked outright affright as they entered. 

“Greetings, My Lord,” Lucius said and bowed shortly, just as he had done in the old days. However, there was a stiffness to his back that only vanished after he nodded in acceptance and welcomed and motioned over to a pair of chairs opposite his desk. 

“I have not expected you and your son today. Are there news?”

“Hogwart’s new Defence Professor asked me to convey a message to you,” Lucius began and picked the glass of fire whiskey up that had appeared on the desk in front of him and his son. “Apparently, he used the chance to test potter on his spell knowledge.”

Looking up from his own glass, Voldemort prompted: “And what did he find out?” Sometimes Lucius’ tendency for dramatics was tiering. 

“It seems that Potter’s knowledge is not completely lost. His subconscious still remembers spells the old fool certainly has not taught him.”

“Good, that means the same will most likely be the case for his lost memories as well,” he hummed, draining his glass in one gulp. This was the first promising news he had gotten since Rhian’s disappearance. 

________________________________________________________________________

“Wake up! Harry, wake up!” 

Harry groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. He was lying in his bed in Gryffindor tower, the new old plush toy he felt unexplainable drawn too clutched tightly to his chest. 

“Hu?”

“Mate, you overslept. Classes start in 15 minutes and there is a scary, bird waiting for you on our windowsill.”

Still feeling too exhausted to comprehend what his friend was saying, he forced himself to sit up and looked around. 

A screeching alerted him to at least one part of the sentence and as Ron carefully, with outstretched arm pushed the window open, the familiar black bird came sailing over to him, another package in his claws. 

“Thanks,” he smiled weakly and began to unwrap the gift. It was strangely flat this time and as he pulled the wrapping paper off, he realized why. It was a beautiful, hand-drawn picture. Smiling at the peaceful scene, he examined it for a moment, before something caught his attention and he frowned. 

The boy on the sofa looked vaguely familiar, even though he could not remember where he had seen him before. Soft wavy hair fell into his face as he slept soundly, his eyes, which would be from the brightest green one could imagine, even brighter than his own eyes were closed and hidden behind pale eyelids. 

The young man next to him had to be the boy’s father. Even though he seemed engrossed in the book on his lap, he had one hand combing affectionately through those black locks.

“I wish he would be wormer…” he mumbled absentmindedly as if reciting a forgotten dream.

“Did you say something?” Ron’s loud voice pulled him forcefully back to the present. 

“No,” he mumbled and carefully placed the picture onto his bedside table. 

However, when he stood up, a wave of dizziness overcame him and he immediately had to sit down again.  
“Oi mate, is everything alright? You look a bit grey,” his friend asked and came over. 

Harry needed a moment before he felt at least well enough to open his mouth because, despite the empty feeling in his stomach, he felt as if he was going to be sick.  
“No, not really. I think I better stay in bed for now.”

“Oh...ok. Should I bring you something from the great hall later?”  
shaking his head, Harry told his friend: “I will try to catch up with you and Mione at lunch. Could you ask her to take notes for me?” He didn’t feel like he would be any better at lunch, but he also didn’t wish to draw attention to how bad he was feeling and an argument about his responsibleness considering classes was the last thing he needed. As if he didn’t have to fight to stay away in those boring lessons anyway. 

“Sure thing. Get some rest,” Ron said and left their dorm with a wave.

Sighing in relieve, Harry pulled his feet back up onto the bed and pulled his blanket over them. He was about to lie down when his eyes once more fell onto the drawing. Picking it up, he examined it for a second time, wondering why it felt so familiar and what all those presents were about in the first place. 

Did the sender know him? Or did he maybe know his parents? A screech alerted him to the bird that was still perched on the top of his baldachin. It seemed to give him a pointed look as if it was waiting for something. 

But what should a post-bird be waiting for aside from a letter?  
His eyes widening, he quickly summoned his writing materials from his school bag. Why hadn’t he gotten this idea earlier? he could just write the mysterious sender and ask him all those questions himself.

Thinking about what he could write, he nibbled at his quill. He didn’t want to sound like a small, curious child, even though that was exactly what he was right now. However, after about five minutes he gave his futile attempt up and just wrote:

“Hello, Sir or Ma’am,  
thank you for the nice gifts you have sent me. Do I know you? Or did you maybe know my parents? I hope I don’t overstep any boundaries, but I would like to hear more about you. 

Harry.”

Looking up to the eagle, he waved it down and asked: “Would you deliver this to your Master?”  
The bird screeched again and took his short letter before finally flying off.

Feeling still tiered and knowing that he would probably have to wait a day at least for a reply, he lay back down. Maybe the person wouldn’t even answer, after all, he or she hadn’t added any letter or note so far. Maybe they wanted to stay anonymous. 

When he woke up hours later, he noticed with dread that the sky behind the window was already growing rather dark. Considering that it was not yet winter, it had to be rather late. Groaning, he forced himself out of bed.

His legs felt weak and wobbly, but the dizziness didn’t return. Stepping in front of the old mirror that hung next to the dorm room door, he checked if he still looked as bad as he felt. Unfortunately, his lack of meals began to show. If he had thought he had been thin before than it was nothing in comparison to what he looked now. 

Sighing, he decided to pull one of his oversized pullovers over, hoping that it would hide how bad he looked, before finally going down to the common room. 

“There you are, mate. Feeling better?” Ron said as soon as he came into view.   
“Yeah,” he lied smoothly, letting himself fall into the free armchair across from his friends.

“I have copied my notes for you. You missed a lot today,” Hermione greeted him and instantly handed a rather impressive pile of scrolls over to him.   
“Thank you. I will read it before I go to bed,” he thanked her anyway, despite knowing he would just shrink them and hid them in his trunk.

However, she beamed at him and didn’t say anything more about his lazy day in bed, so it definitively was worth the lie. 

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Ron suddenly exclaimed, rummaged around in his school bag and pulled a rather squashed looking package and a letter from it.  
“I brought you a sandwich and Ginny send a letter for you. She misses her fiance a lot,” his friend winked at him, but Harry only took the letter wordlessly. 

He knew he had been so happy when Dumbledore and the Weasleys had signed their betrothal contract, but right now he only felt irritated. It probably was due to his tiredness which was still lingering even after what had to be 15 hours of sleep. 

“Thanks. I will read it later,” he smiled and took the letter as well as the sandwich.   
However, his stomach roiled at the sighed of the foot. He was just wondering how to explain that he was not hungry despite after not having eaten the whole day when a persistent knock on the nearest window and a by now familiar screech saved him. 

Placing the two items in his hands quickly down, he walked over and let the bird in. This time, he noticed with excitement, it did not carry a present, but a neatly folded letter.

“You god another one? The girl must really fancy you?” Ron commented as he sat back down.  
Hermione, who had gone back to reading her charms textbook looked up. “Another what?”  
“Another present. You remember that plush toy he got?” Ron grinned and leaned closer. However, his face fell as he saw that it was only a letter.   
“How boring,” he commented, but harry just ignored him as he stared at the envelope.

He wanted to go up to his dorm and read it in peace, but he also didn’t want to draw too much attention to it. 

“At least he will finally find out who is sending him this thing,” Hermione pointed out.  
Ron brightened again at that prospect and prompted:  
“Hurry and open it!” 

Shaking his head, he stood up and told his friends: “I will go up and begin with the notes.”  
“Why?” Ron exclaimed, looking incredulous, but it vanished quickly when Hermione elbowed him harshly.  
“Don’t be so insensitive, Ron. He wants to read the letter in peace!” She hissed rather loudly.

throwing her a thankful smile, he picked the sandwich and Ginny’s letter up as well, before returning to his dorm room, the great, black eagle following in his shadow. 

Sitting down on his bed, he examined the wax seal for a moment. Just as everything else the stranger had sent him, it felt vaguely familiar.   
Finally, he broke it and began reading:

“Dear Harry,  
I am indeed connected to your family. We knew each other very well for your first year of your life and a far too short time-span afterward.   
Please excuse me for not telling you more at this point. I hope to build a solid relationship first, before telling you more about my person.   
However, that does not mean that I am not willing to answer other questions or listen to whatever you wish to entrust me with. Feel free to write about whatever is on your mind, be it school or other things you experience at Hogwarts.

D.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please R&R


	4. Chapter 4

Good morning my dear readers,  
I know, it is forbidden to post a note without chapter, but I really need your advise. I have come to a dead end with this story, my approach just isn't working, at least not for me. However, I have started a spin off, based on many of the ideas I wanted to put in this story. So now I will give you two options:  
1\. I can post the spin off as separate story and leave this one discontinued, or  
2\. I can connect False Ties to the spin off and make a sequel out of it. The transition might not be 100% smooth, but I hope at least 90%. 

This would mean I would have to add a scene to the fight in the Ministry of Mystery, just to warn you, as the Spin off starts with a flash back where Harry watches Albus and Tom fight...

I also want to say, regardless, which option you choose, the spin off is working really well. I am about to start chapter 10 and each chapter is about 10k long. I have two friends reading over it and they like it very much, so it will definitively not go to waste. 

I really hope I get a lot of feedback, or I have to choose on my own. To be honest, I manly offer these two options, because I am still getting reviews on Family ties now and then and have the feeling the story was well received after all, even though I first felt as if no one really liked the concept. Another point why I had so many problems with it. 

E-hugs to you all,  
JSG

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I am not quite happy with this chapter. It was supposed to be longer, but the chapter just refused to be written. I have a lot of ideas once Voldemort and Harry meet again, but until then it will hard. How many chapters would you like to have until they meet again? 2? 4? I also wonder if I should make Harry slightly older, but for that I would have to go back to the prequel. Or maybe he will have a growth spurt once all the bindings on his magic are destroyed? Also, should Voldemort already look like his old self or only regain his looks with further help of Harry later on? Oh, and one last thing: Who should be the new DADA Professor? Barty as in the original and so many fan fiction or someone new? I thought maybe Regulus Black? He could have hidden and be a Metamorphmagus just like Tonks?
> 
> Pleas write me your ideas and opinions!


End file.
